


Heroes and Villains:  Of Songs and Seduction

by irishlullaby13



Series: Heroes and Villains [8]
Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Captain and the Siren, Drunkeness, F/M, In between scene, Semi-Public Sex, Series: Heroes and Villians, flirty abbie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-09 11:58:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11104128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishlullaby13/pseuds/irishlullaby13
Summary: The Captain and the Siren have a night out in Hawaii.  Set during the events of 'Of Trips, Crypts, and Catacombs'.





	Heroes and Villains:  Of Songs and Seduction

“Joe,” Abbie groaned into the phone.

“Abbie.”

“ _Joe_.”

“What is it, Abbie?” Joe asked with amusement.

“ _Jooooooe_ ,” Abbie sighed. “You've spent more time with the Captain on a personal level. He's feeling _morose_. What can I do to cheer him up?” Joe was quiet a moment then she heard him suck in a breath. “Other than fucking him, Joe.”

“Oh, well, since that's off the table,” Joe muttered. “Where are you guys?”

“Kaua'i, Hawaii,” Abbie replied. “Come on, Joe. Gimme something to work with, I'm liable to shoot myself if I have to hear one more Linkin Park cover. And that's just so I know I never again have to hear Linkin Park.”

“Ooch, he is morose,” Joe hissed. “Kamikazi him.”

“Que?” Abbie asked.

“Kamikazi him,” Joe repeated.

“With the kamikazi drink or kamikazi karaoke?” Abbie asked. 

“Both sounds good,” Joe replied. “Or... make him down a few tequila sunrises and ask him to sing you a love song.”

Abbie shook her head even though she knew Joe couldn't see it. “Nah uh. Not happening. Just... Just tell me what to do, Joe. I can't take any more Linkin Park.” _Silence_. “I'm not going to fuck him, Joe.”

“Okay, then _you_ sing a few songs,” Joe suggested. “He likes hearing you sing.”

“He's never heard me sing Joe.”

“If you say so,” Joe murmured. “Just do a couple of Rihanna songs. Jenny got him hooked on her just before you guys left out.”

Abbie groaned. “Joe... you're supposed to be helping me get him in a better mood not get him to give me those big stupid puppy dog eyes even more.”

“Then I am all out of options,” Joe sighed. “Because you said you wasn't going to fuck him. I mean that seems like the easiest solution to me but... Just sing something you like.”

“ _Fine_.”

Abbie hung up her phone and began to flip through the book of karaoke songs available. She was sorely tempted to flip to the artists that began with 'L' and removed the page with all the Linkin Park songs in a tidy row. Her heart stopped when she got to the “E” artists. _Etta James_. A smile slowly crept to her lips.

_She crept down the steps into the basement, pulling a face at the music blaring from the phone sitting on the Captain's “safe zone” table where he kept things he didn't want to get destroyed. Joe was right. It was weird seeing the Captain working on something or other and screaming out Rage Against the Machine._

_Abbie picked up the phone and perched herself on the safe table. She hit the back arrow a couple of times to take her to where she could create a new station. Shaking her head at the options already listed—the likes of Nine Inch Nails and Marilyn Manson along with Lionel Richie, Rihanna, Beyonce, and... pirate metal? Was that even an actual, legit genre?—Abbie started tapping in a selection._

_“For it's the end of history. It's caged and frozen still. There is no other pill to take. So swallow the one. That makes you ill. The nina, the pinta, the santa ma—” the Captain was singing as he studied various wrenches. Abbie selected her song and smirked when the screen changed to display a photo of Etta James. “—ria. The noo—”_

_The Captain's back straightened and his entire pose stiffened. His fingers flicked, sending the wrench in his hand flying to locations unknown. Slowly he turned toward her as she started humming along to Sunday Kind of Love. “That's a little more peaceful, don't you think?” Abbie asked softly._

_She set the phone down and crossed her legs. Her eyes swept over his face. Abbie couldn't remember the last time she had seen someone with both red rimmed eyes and such dark circles under them and he was gently trembling. “They...” he started, his voice low and almost completely helpless. “I've been trapped down here for days.”_

_Abbie wrinkled her nose. “I can tell,” she said with a nod. “Plus I saw the chain and lock on the cellar doors again... so I sort of figured.”_

_The Captain's entire left side seemed to flinch. He closed his eyes and sucked in slow deep breaths. After a moment, his eyes opened again. “You... are sending mixed signals, Siren.”_

_“It's just one of my favourite songs is all,” she said with a shrug. “Nothing to read into.”_

_He took a step toward her, hand raised as though he wanted to reach out and touch her, but then he stopped. Then, without even looking back, he reached behind him and flipped his work table over onto its side, sending his project crashing to the ground. “Well look at that. You have destroyed yet another one of my inventions that could assist Moloch and, whoever the hell else wants to_ breeze in _and dictate my life.”_

_“I didn't do that, you did,” Abbie pointed out._

_“Oh? And who would the police believe? The person that lives here or the woman that is constantly breaking in and destroying things?” He gave an almost maniacal laugh that dissolved into him gasping for breath._

_“You have a point.” Abbie tilted her head as she studied his face. He was about to lose it. Big time. She held out her hand. His eyes fell to her fingers when she wriggled them in invitation._

_The Captain rushed forward, completely passed her hand and swept her into a crushing hug. Abbie closed her eyes and let him just hold her close._ And my arms need someone. Someone to enfold. To keep me warm when Mondays and Tuesdays grow cold. Love for all my life to have and to hold _. After a moment, the Captain knelt down and rested his head in her lap, keeping his arms around her as she gently stroked his hair._

_“They're getting too desperate,” Abbie said quietly. “They're making mistakes. The biggest one is that they are underestimating me. All I ask is that you trust me. Have faith in me.” It felt like she had said the same words several times before in a different time and different place... several different times._

_“Always,” was the only thing he whispered._

Abbie waited for the Captain to escape the tiny group that kept putting him in for fucking Linkin Park songs before giving him an impish grin. “You've convinced me to do a song,” she stated. “But it's a surprise. And I expect you to do something that'll sweep me off my feet.”

His eyebrows arched and a bright grin spread across his lips. “A ballad of love and devotion?” the Captain asked.

“Surprise me,” Abbie said. “I'll go get us some drinks and put my song in. You look for a song to do.” She moved to stand up and paused. “That is _not_ Linkin Park. Please. That is my only request.”

“They are hardly appropriate for the subject matter at hand,” the Captain replied. He took her hand and kissed it. “But I shall seek the perfect song for my Siren.”

“And no Marilyn Manson,” Abbie added as she stood.

He looked at her questioningly. “But I thought you said you had enjoyed my rendition of Sweet Dreams? More precisely, you said you enjoyed it a rather bit too much.”

Suddenly she was thankful he hadn't picked up a completely modern vernacular just yet. “ _Drinks_ ,” Abbie stated again and hurried off to the bar. Once she put in the order for two tequila sunrises—one with extra cherries because, Jesus, the Captain loved them—Abbie turned back toward the table to see the Captain was huddled close to his cell phone talking. After a moment his eyes widened and she could make out the words 'no, not that' followed by 'no... no... absolutely not.' Shortly thereafter the Captain sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he conceded to whatever Joe was suggesting.

She knew it was Joe. There was only three numbers in his phone but only two of them he called on a regular basis and one of those two didn't answer the phone while working night shift unless it was her wife.

“Here we are pretty lady,” the bartender said, sliding two drinks across the bar. The woman gave Abbie a wink as she also passed a card.

Abbie turned the card over and saw the woman's name as well as a phone number with a small handwritten note that said 'for when you're 100% sober.' “Want me to give this to my friend?” Abbie asked.

The woman's eyes lit up. “Oh so he is just a friend?” she asked. “Oh good, I thought I was going to have some competition. But no, babe, he's not my type. The number's for you.” She gave Abbie a flirtatious smile. “If you're interested.”

Abbie grinned and tucked the card into her bikini top. “We'll see.” She looked at the name. “ _Leilani_.” When she reached into the other side of her bikini and pulled out a fold of cash the bartender shook her head. Instead Abbie removed a twenty from the fold and put it in the tip jar, sticking her tongue out playfully.

“Ack, you _tease_ ,” the bartender joked as Abbie turned to return to the table.

  
#  


As soon as the Siren had walked away, Ichabod had fished his cellular device from his pocket and selected Mister Joseph Corbin's name. Mister Corbin answered with, “I'm going to start charging you guys when you call for advice.”

“Forgive me, Joseph, but it is a most dire situation,” Ichabod said quietly, craning himself over the table to hopefully reduce the amount of noise that carried through. “I need reference to a ballad with which to serenade the Siren. The provisions are it can be neither Linkin Park nor Mister Manson and it must be capable of sweeping her off her feet.”

“Oh, well, that makes it easy. Instead of doing something sweet and schmoopy... you have to make her laugh,” Joseph suggested. “And you _know_ what that means.”

Ichabod felt his face warm. He knew precisely to what his younger friend was referring and he didn't like it. “Now is not the time for...”

“Look, statistically, women find potential partners that can make them laugh, like... almost fifty percent sexier. You can't fight scientific facts,” Joe commented. “Do it.”

“No. And where might I find this research on the internet? Your claim sounds dubious at best.”

“Go big or go home, Crane,” Joe hummed. “Come on... don't you remember how hard Jenny laughed at us on karaoke night?”

“No... no... no... Absolutely not.”

“I can guarantee you. If you do it, Abbie is yours.”

Ichabod sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What if it offends her?”

“It. Won't. Now do it. Come on... Where's the guy that used to have lovely ladies fawning all over the place?” Joe asked. “Where is the Ichabod Crane that used to have to hide from Betsy Ross because she was too much to handle? Where is the seducer of sweet book binders? Where is the man that stole his best friend's fiancée?”

“In the early 1760s to mid 1770s where he belongs,” Ichabod retorted dryly.

“God, you two are hard cases,” Joe groaned with good humour. “Neither one of you want to take my suggestions when you, literally, called me to see what you should do. Fine. Ignore me like she did. Neither one of you are going to get what you want and you'll only have yourselves to blame.”

Ichabod was about to apologize but Joseph had not wasted time in hanging up. Taking a deep breath he flipped through the pages of the available karaoke tunes until he found the song he was looking for. For a fleeting moment he had hoped it would not be there, but it was. Of course it would be there.

All Ichabod could think was that humiliating himself better do the trick of cheering up the Siren. Otherwise he would find the nearest volcano and throw himself into it. He had just scribbled his selection on the tiny slip of paper when the Siren returned, drinks in hand and a big grin on her lips, which faded as soon as she reached the table.

“Is everything okay?” she asked with concern as she set down the drinks.

Ichabod sucked in a breath and eyed the slip in his hand. He was far from “okay” at the moment. He was in the proverbial rock and hard place, not knowing what the outcome of _this_ would be.

“I fear I am about to make a most grievous mistake,” he replied in earnest. “However... the risk is worth the possibility that it shall be a success.” Without waiting for the Siren to respond or try to talk him out of it, he rushed up to the KJ and dutifully turned over the slip of paper bearing the name of Sir Mix-a-lot’s classic ode to the female posterior.

The young man took one look at it and chuckled. “Mmm... honey. Are you sure about this? This is like, the complete opposite of what you've been singing all night.”

Ichabod closed his eyes and nodded. “I am most assuredly certain of this choice.”

“You have enough time to down a couple of drinks before it’s your turn,” the KJ assured.

Ichabod bowed his head politely and returned to the table. The Siren flashed her big soulful eyes at him as he reclaimed his seat and she sipped on a straw. She laughed when he attacked his drink with gusto.

“If it makes you that uncomfortable, you don't have to do it,” she said lightly, resting her head on his shoulder. The Siren put her hand over his and made him lower the drink.

Had she not yet realized he would make himself as uncomfortable as he needed to appease her? That he would willingly do any number of humiliating acts, so long as it brought a smile to her face? For a moment he had a vision of her laying upon lavish cushions, her hand upon her chest as she laughed joyously—her hair long and in beautiful wild curls, fanned around her—then she looked at him and dainty licked her lips before stretching her hands toward him. _Come to me, my silly mortal_.

“I thank you for giving me the choice on the matter,” he replied softly, turning his head just enough that he could inhale the sweet scent of her hair. He closed his eyes. _Argon oil conditioner. Pomegranate body lotion. Peony scented body wash. All lined up on the edge of the massive bath in the suite_. “But my decision is final. My lady asked for a ballad to describe my deepest feelings, and so you shall have it.”

She leaned in closer. “I look forward to it.”

“ _Miss Abigail_ , get up here and sing for us,” the KJ called.

Ichabod sucked in a breath as their moment was broken and the Siren leaned away as she stood. She bound happily to the little stage and took the microphone, drink still in hand. “This is for my dear friend, Captain Crane,” she said into the microphone, and raised her glass in salute. She cleared her throat and waited for the music to begin. “ _I want a Sunday kind of love. A love to last past, Saturday night. And I'd like to know it's more than love at first sight. And I want a Sunday kind of love. Oh yea yea..._ ”

He wasn't even certain when he stood or when he walked across the tiny bar, yet he suddenly found himself standing before her, watching in awe as she serenaded him. As soon as she noticed him standing there, instead of singing to the small crowd, her eyes fell to him and he knew none of the others were in her mind at that moment. She set her drink on a nearby stool. Her eyes grew darker, her voice more sultry, the gentle sways of her body to the tune became more like a spellbinding dance.

He also recognized the song as being the one she played on his cellular device, when he felt stretched to his limitations. The moment it had interrupted what he had been playing had felt like the proverbial rubber band in his head had finally been permitted the chance to relax and go back to its normal shape.

Ichabod stood there, captivated. He was fairly certain the light feeling in his head had absolutely nothing to with the alcohol. When he stepped into her orbit--because there was no doubt in his mind that she was the centre of the universe at that very moment--she grasped his shirt and pulled him close enough that she could sway to the music with him, her free arm hanging over his shoulder.

“And my arms need someone… someone to enfold…” she sang. “To keep me warm when Mondays and Tuesdays grow cold… Love for all my life… to have and to hold…” The Siren rested her forehead against his. “Oh and I want a Sunday… kind of love… Oh yea yea yea…”

When she stepped away, softly stroking his chest as she grinned, Ichabod knew _this_ must be what the sailors felt when they flung themselves into the sea upon hearing the mythical creatures singing. To borrow a modern phrase, however, he felt like flinging himself into the sun. He would be content to evaporate into blissful nothingness, filled with the beauty of the Siren’s song in his memory.

The little stage gave her the advantage, that when she turned around and pressed back against him and pulled his arm around her waist, his chin was able to rest on her shoulder. “I don’t want a Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday, or Thursday, Friday, Saturday…” He brushed his lips over her pulse as his hands spanned her sides. “Oh nothing but a Sunday… oh yea…”

By time she reached the end, it was apparent to everyone in the little bar that the two were aware only of each other’s existence. The Siren shook her head to clear it when the KJ approached to take the mic and stepped away from Ichabod, leaving him feeling punch drunk. She stepped off the stage, licking her lips to chase away their sudden dryness.

“I think we should go,” she said, her voice heavy as she pulled out her phone to hail a nearby cab.

Ichabod nodded drunkenly but not from the liquor. Oh of course that played a small part but it was minute in comparison to being drunk from indulging in his Siren… Without so much of a goodbye to anyone in the bar, she tugged him out the door as their cab arrived.

  
#  


Abbie gripped two handfuls of Ichabod’s hair as she ground down against the hard lump in the front of his trousers. She grinned against his lips then kissed him again.

His greedy hands grasped her ass through the material of her wrap and bikini bottoms. Each time he groaned, it sent shivers of excitement down her spine. On their trip so far she had become accustomed to the decadent noises he made when tasting new foods, but the sounds he made now… the former paled in comparison.

The sounds he made now were positively sinful. “You are most fortunate, my dear Siren,” Ichabod murmured against her lips. “If not for the driver, I would be making you mine this very moment.”

Abbie glanced back toward the driver and met her eyes in the rear view mirror. The look on the young woman's face said she honestly wouldn't say a word if they did do anything.

She looked back at Ichabod. “I don't think she would mind even if we did,” Abbie whispered hotly, in his ear. He shuddered and moaned when she pressed against the front of his trousers. “What do you say Captain?”

His head lolled back and Ichabod groaned, “You... wicked woman…” He swallowed loudly and when he looked at her again, Abbie saw a man toeing the line of sanity… just how she liked him. He muttered something that sounded a lot like ‘fuck propriety’ then took her face in his hands to guide her mouth back to his.

The following morning, Abbie would blame the alcohol, being horny, being desperate; she would blame anything and everything except the fact they had been wanting this for longer than they cared to admit. She would also give herself the counterargument that the first three would have been perfect excuses if they had only had a singular encounter. 

However, in the backseat of the cab was only the first of three occasions to occur that night.

When Ichabod pulled his lips from hers, he remained close enough that she could feel the heat of his skin radiating against hers. “But make certain our lovely driver does, in fact, not mind…”

“By all means…” the driver piped without even being asked, her voice tilting with excitement.

Abbie grinned cutely and grappled for her little clutch purse. She pulled it between them and unzipped it so she could pull out a condom. With a small, sneaky giggle she bopped Ichabod on the nose with the packet. “Did Joe tell you what this is?”

Ichabod huffed indignantly. “I shall have you know all about probiot--wait, no… prophylactics in the modern era. I've studied them intensively for the past few weeks…”

Abbie's brows arched as she started on the buttons of his trousers. “Oh so you've been anticipating this happening, have you?”

“Hoped… dreamt…” he breathed, helping her move material out of their way. “My belo--”

Abbie put a finger over his lips after rolling the condom on. “You’re talking too much…”

He made an attempt to apologize but Abbie cut it off with a kiss. She leaned forward against him while clamouring to move her bikini bottom out of the way and lower herself onto him.

Abbie had inadvertently seen him naked once before--while he had been helping her recover from an attack from Moloch--because she had broken into the bathroom he was showering in. However, the quick glimpse hadn't mentally prepared her for the reality of the situation of his thickness slowly filling her as she eased down.

She slid her hands behind his neck and moaned loudly as she rocked against him, pushing deeper. His hands cradled her hips and he thrust against her when she bore down.

A soft swear emitted from Ichabod’s lips when Abbie slowly rotated her hips. “Ichabod,” she gasped.

They were just starting to find their rhythm when the driver swore under her breath. “We've reached your destination…” she said meekly.

Both Abbie and Ichabod swore. Within seconds they had Ichabod uncomfortably tucked away into his trousers. Abbie readjusted her bikini bottom so she was decent. She leaned between the front seats and gave the driver a quick kiss on the cheek as she tucked a cash tip into her hand. “Thank you.”

The driver blushed. “You’re welcome…”

Abbie hurried out of the cab behind Ichabod, barely remembering to grab her clutch. She walked backwards towards the elaborate resort doors, crooking her finger to beckon him as she licked her lips.

The doorman opened the door, giving ‘Mister and Missus Crane’ a greeting as Abbie turned and hurried into the hotel giggling. _Somehow_ their reservation had gotten upgraded to the honeymoon suite instead of the two room suites they had been having, but they had played along since it came with several perks.

No sooner than Abbie had pressed the button to call the elevator, she was being whirled around and being swept into Ichabod’s arms as the doors slid open. She wrapped her arms around his neck as the doors closed behind them.

Ichabod dipped her toward the numbers so she could press the button for their floor. He let her legs drop so they dangled down and she was hanging from his neck. “Nope, not putting me down, I'm stuck on you like a parasite,” Abbie laughed, wrapping her legs around him then climbing up him until she had them around his waist.

“And not a complaint shall be heard, my Siren,” Ichabod said softly, then kissed her.

Abbie didn't want to admit it but she loved the way he called her _his_ Siren. Not in the way that she belonged to him, like a piece of property, but that he belonged to her… like she was some kind of loving goddess and he worshipped her.

She couldn't explain what happened next because it was like something deep inside of her welled up and began to overflow. She heard a voice that sounded like her own, in the back of her head softly whisper, “Worship me, my love…”

It didn't occur to her that she had spoken aloud until she felt herself lowering while Ichabod pried her legs from around his waist. “Gladly…” he said hotly.

She was only moderately annoyed that, once her feet were on the floor and he was on his knees, his face was at her cleavage. Abbie leaned back as his lips fluttered over the flesh of her breasts, pushed up and almost spilling out of her bikini top. Her arms dropped to her sides and she sighed softly as Ichabod’s hands drifted over her sides and stomach before moving aside the folds of her waist wrap to glide down her legs. 

As his hands began their upward journey, they slipped between her legs, Abbie thrust a hand out to press against the side wall of the elevator for support. She widened her stance to accommodate his hand and her knees quivered as his fingers stroked her through the polyester nylon blend fabric.

“Shall I sing a hymn of devotion?” Ichabod asked with a delicious smirk that made Abbie's entire being clench lustfully. “Since I did not get to sing for you at the bar?”

Hymn of devotion. Hell, maybe he did think of her as some kind of goddess. Abbie laughed deeply and grinned, “Have at it.”

He cocked a brow and brushed his lips on the swell of her breasts. Abbie's head fell back as his fingers continued to tease her.

“You let me violate you,” Ichabod crooned affectionately. His lips descended to her abdomen. “You let me desecrate you…”

Abbie grinned widely. Part of her thought she recognized the song but she was too caught up the sensations his fingers and lips wrought upon her body to identify it. She felt him tug at one of the hip strings underneath the wrap, then the other. Her heart beat faster as she felt him peel her bikini bottom completely off.

“You let me…” Abbie howled softly as Ichabod thrust two fingers inside of her. “... _penetrate_ you…”

“ _Yeeeesss_...” Abbie moaned, her free hand going to the top of his head and shoving him further down. She was a big fan of being penetrated. Preferably by Ichabod, at that moment. Although she much preferred his penis. But for now his fingers would suffice. She could get the other when there was no further interruptions.

Ichabod’s tongue delicately teased the intention of her belly button as his fingers worked frantically between her legs, getting her wetter than she had already been.

If he was advertising what he was capable of doing between her legs with this tongue on her navel… Abbie really wanted to get back to the room and sit on his face. He licked, laved, and nibbled around before dipping his tongue inside. Abbie shouted out a swear when he pressed his fingers deep, twisted his wrist, and pressed her clit the same time he gently sucked on the flesh of her stomach.

He pulled back and licked his lips. “You let me complicate you…”

Abbie sighed raggedly and then hummed softly, “Yes I do…”

It occurred to her suddenly that they should have reached their floor by now. Even at the top floor it was taking entirely too long, especially with the added fact she was now horny _as fuck_.

She looked over and realized her hand had been holding down the _stop_ button on the number panel. Abbie removed her hand from the button the same instant Ichabod removed his fingers from her and clamored to his feet.

Abbie grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him close. “When we get to the room… I am going to do so many dirty things to you…” she promised, gazing up at him.

Ichabod’s eyes glimmered with mischievous intent and he leaned in to nibble down the side of her neck. He grasped her hips and pulled her against him, letting her know he fully intended to let her do those dirty things to him and that he probably had a few of his own he wanted to lay on her. 

His teeth tugged gently on her ear and he softly sang, “ _Help me_... I broke apart my insides…”

Abbie’s eyes widened as her face warmed. “Shit… Ichabod…” She groaned when his fingers curled into flesh of her ass.

“ _Help me_... I've got no soul to sell…”

She suddenly recognized the song and needed to get out of the elevator before she decided to fuck all and have him fuck her in the elevator. Besides, what was an elevator when she had already been riding him in the cab…

 _No_ , she scolded herself. She wanted a bed. She wanted him to pin her down on it and slam his cock into her until she thought he was going to tear her in two. She wanted wrap her thighs around his face. She wanted to impale herself on him until she completely shattered.

The elevator door dinged and the doors slid open. Abbie wriggled free and only made it to the doorway of the elevator before Ichabod caught her about the waist. 

“ _Help me_... The only thing that works for me. Help me get away from myself…”

Whether he let her go on purpose or if she freed herself was a mystery. But Abbie dashed toward their suite door and reached it just as he caught up again and trapped her in his arms.

He voice turned into a low, sensual growl. “I want to fuck you like an animal.” Abbie's knees buckled and she was pretty sure she came a little. “I want to feel you from the inside.”

Abbie grappled at the door handle, trying to fish her key from her clutch… which seemed to have gone missing somewhere between the lobby and the room. “Room key!” she yelped as Ichabod nipped at the curve of her shoulder. She pressed back against him. 

“ _I want to fuck you like an animal_ ,” Ichabod whispered, sliding his key card into her hand, as he nuzzled her ear.

Abbie shoved the key into the card slot and tugged desperately at the handle. She gave a flustered shriek when the light stayed red and she realized she had inserted it backwards. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck fuck fuck… fuckity fuck fuck…”

Finally the light turned green and Abbie swore she heard a choir of angels singing as she stumbled into the room. Once she found her footing, she turned toward Ichabod. Her heart stammered and she exhaled shakily. 

The light from the hallway made her liken Ichabod to some kind of ancient god of darkness who had lured her into his dark realm. He was slowly stripping his clothes off, starting with his coat and then tugging at the loose ties of his shirt.

“Hymnals are done for now,” Abbie breathed, kicking off her sandals as she walked backward toward lavish bed. She untied the knot of the wrap and let it fall to the floor, leaving her naked except for her bikini top.

For a second she thought Ichabod's eyes glowed like tiny blue flames, but she shook her head to clear it and they were back to normal. 

Abbie reached behind her back to tug at the laces of her top then let it fall to the floor as well--along with everything she had tucked into the top. She stood waiting at the bed, watching Ichabod discard his shoes, socks, and then finally his trousers. “Jesus…” she breathed, as his erection stood proudly. “That looks painful. You should do something to relieve it.”

Although Abbie suddenly wondered where the condom went. She didn't recall either of them removing it, but she hoped they didn't leave it in the cab because that would have been a dick move on their part.

“And I shall, my Siren, as soon as I am certain I have properly worshipped you,” he purred darkly.

“Abbie,” she said. “I want you to call me Abbie. Just this once.”

Ichabod moved toward her with a surprising amount of grace for a man in his current state. He lightly shook his head. “No… if this once is all we shall have, I refuse to call you by any name that is not yours.”

She wanted to shake him and tell him that it _was_ her name, but he picked her up by her waist. Anything she may have wanted to do or say was reduced to a surprise squeak as he threw her onto the bed. The fact he did so with such ridiculous ease made her realize he could have easily destroyed her during one of their many encounters. She wasn’t sure why that fact suddenly turned on.

More than she already was. She remembered his face being at her chest in the elevator, while he had been on his knees. Had he always been so ridiculously huge compared to her?

Abbie watched as he knelt down at edge of the bed. He kept his eyes locked with hers as he grasped her knees and guided them over his shoulders.

“I kneel before your altar and give thee penance,” he murmured then dropped his lips to her core.

He dove in with the skill and eagerness of a man that had brought women pleasure a thousand times using his tongue alone but wanted to take his time savour the one spread before him. Abbie's hand fell to the back of his head as she was made aware that, yes, the stuff with her belly button had in fact been an advertisement.

Ichabod moaned softly as he tugged at her clit with his lips. Abbie swore as it sent tiny jolts of pleasure cascading through her. She tugged at his hair and arched toward his questing tongue. He grasped her hips and pinned her down to the mattress.

“Oh shit,” Abbie gasped as a predatory gleam entered his eyes. 

He caught both of her wrists with one hand, pinning them against her stomach, and kept his other at her hip. Satisfied he had her sufficiently restrained, he proceeded to devour her.

His tongue moved faster, when he sucked at her clit he released it with a satisfied wet sound before diving back in. All Abbie could do was tighten her trembling thighs around his face. And make noises she hadn't realized human being were capable of.

Her fingers curled and unfurled against her stomach, wanting to feel the softness of Ichabod’s hair between them. Suddenly her eyes rolled back, she felt her muscles tense to the point her entire body was quivering. Ichabod lifted his head for a moment, to suck in a deep breath.

Then, he wrapped his arms around her thighs and hauled her up against his face. Abbie clutched the duvet and a string of swears flooded from her lips as she came. Ichabod did not relent until he had lapped up every bit of her orgasm.

Abbie stared up at the ceiling, disbelieving at what had just happened. Did they teach that in school back in his day? “Damn,” she sighed. “Damn, damn, damn…” She looked at him as he stood, her eyes roamed over him. “Damn…”

 _Shit… where was her clutch_? 

She worried her bottom lip for a moment. “Ichabod… how many women have you been with since waking up in this era?”

Ichabod arched a brow. “None,” he replied softly.

“Including your wife,” Abbie added.

“The answer remains ‘none,’ my lovely Siren,” he replied with a small smile. “And if you are curious, I have lain with no gentlemen either.”

Oh Jesus, Abbie couldn't help but think. That meant he hadn't gotten any for nearly 250 years. While she was frustrated from having to keep romance on the back burner since all the apocalypse crap had started, it was nothing compared to 250 years of nocturnal emissions.

No wonder he was so fucking tense all the time.

“Fuck it,” Abbie muttered. She had seen the results from all the blood work Joe had them get prior to getting their passports. The only thing ailing Ichabod was having to get a shit-ton of immunizations to travel abroad. But he was free of unsavoury ailments, as was she.

Ichabod grinned wickedly. “That was the plan,” he purred, kneeling down enough to brush his lips over hers. “Was it not?”

Abbie rolled over with the intent to crawl to the middle of the bed. Ichabod, however, seemed inclined toward other ideas. Much to Abbie's surprise, Ichabod grabbed a pillow and tucked it underneath her hips.

Ichabod placed soft kisses on her shoulder. “Say the word, Siren, and I shall give all of myself to you,” he murmured.

She shuddered as she felt him move into position. “Gimme,” she said, a laugh suddenly bubbling from somewhere deep inside. Her laughter turned to a moan when Ichabod thrust forward. His fingers tightened on her hips and he pulled her against him, driving deeper.

Abbie swore again, gripping the duvet in her fists. “Again,” she groaned.She felt him withdraw slowly then she cried out when he thrust again. She slapped the bed and ground out, “Give it to me, Ichabod. You said you would…”

She felt the frustration she had been feeling for the past year or so melting away with each deep stroke. _Fuck. He was thick and hard_ , Abbie mused. She clenched hard around his cock when he yanked on her hips again, burying himself to the hilt inside of her.

“ _Yes_ ,” she groaned.

For several long moments the room was filled with the sound of their two voices mingling in a chorus of moans, groans, and screams. Abbie couldn't help but wonder why she had resisted this for so long. Why she had denied herself this kind of pleasure…

Her eyes rolled back and she made an unbecoming gurgling sound as she pushed back as hard as he thrust forward. “Siren… my Siren…” Ichabod groaned. His hands glided up and down her back, gripped her ass and finally her hips once again. He swore, pulling her back roughly.

Abbie keened, screaming out his name and the wet sound of their bodies crashing together joined the sounds echoing around the room. Ichabod grunted loudly as he slammed into her hard, rutting against her until she was coming a third time.

His lips and tongue laved a wet path along her shoulder and neck. Abbie shivered as his arms wrapped around her and his heavy voice whispered in her ear, “I made you come, my Siren… I made you _so wet_... I can feel your walls gripping my cock. It feels _so good_ inside of you. I never want to stop… fucking… you…”

“Oh god,” Abbie groaned. He talked dirty too? _Damn_. “Don't stop… don't ever stop, Captain.” She gasped sharply when one of his hands slithered between her legs to gently strum her clit each time his hips snapped forward. “Oh no…” she grappled at his wrist but the wrong one. “I can't come again… shit… shit… fuck…”

“Oh but you're going to, my pretty little Siren,” Ichabod growled against her temple. “Because… I have you… _right_... where… I… want you…”

Abbie came again, sobbing. Ichabod stood to his full height and his strokes slowed as he held fast to her sides. She gasped as she felt his cock pulsing and he groaned “my Siren…” before collapsing on top of her.

Almost instantly he pushed onto his elbows to get his weight off of her. He placed soft kisses on the back of her neck and nuzzled his face in her hair. He whispered soft endearments, calling her his heart and his soul, making her heart clench and tears sting her eyes.

Abbie's mouth felt dry as she tried to temper her emotions. It took her at least five minutes to calm her breath enough to croak, “I need a drink…” She nudged Ichabod with her elbow.

He moved off of her and pulled her to her feet. Abbie made the mistake of turning to look up at him. There was a soft brightness to his eyes, as though he had found something he had been longing for his entire life. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her soundly. For a moment, Abbie let herself get swept up in it. It was in that moment that she mused the idea that his kiss somehow soothed her thirst.

When he ended the kiss and rested his forehead against hers, Abbie considered the idea that _this_ made her feel… good. But then reality reared its ugly head. He was her enemy… while he hadn't really attacked her directly, he was content to stand aside. Which meant he was working against her.

She stepped away, patting his chest as she shook her head. The lightness that had just been on Ichabod’s face dimmed and was replaced by hurt and confusion.

“Drinks,” Abbie said softly. “Clothing optional.” 

At that the hurt and confusion faded and was replaced by a gentle smile. Ichabod picked up his trousers and pulled them on before bounding over to the minibar.

Abbie padded over to the room door, which was wide open. She located her clutch just outside in the hallway, picked it up, then closed and locked the door. When she closed the door, she caught her naked reflection in the mirror on the back. But at the same time it wasn't her reflection.

The woman looking back at her wore a crown of thorn that glowed like embers. She had a crescent scar along the base of her belly and blood splattered on her forearms. “Take what you need. But don’t let him get to you,” the reflection whispered. “He will only hurt you. That’s all he ever does, in every life. Stay strong and resilient Abigail. Don't let him break our heart in this life too.”

Abbie shook her head to clear it and the image was gone. Maybe she wasn't as sobered up as she thought. Which would make it easier to blame alcohol come morning. “Whip us up a couple of screwdrivers bartender,” Abbie chimed, walking over to the minibar.

Yep. She was definitely going to blame the alcohol.

**Author's Note:**

> Song list for this fic:  
> Sleep Now in the Fire - Rage Against the Machine  
> Sunday Kind of Love - Etta James  
> Closer - Nine Inch Nails
> 
> And yes, pirate metal is a thing that exists. Check out the group Voltaire or Alestorm if you've ever been curious about heavy metal sea shanties.
> 
> Also kudos' and comments are LOVE


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